


Stranger Than Fiction

by Akumokagetsu



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, All of the Triggers, Angst, Awkward Relationships, Bill Cipher is a dick, Dark, Depression, Drugs, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Grunkle Stan Has Issues, Horror, How Many Times Do I Have To Warn You Not To Read This, I Wonder How Many Tags I Can Add, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mania, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Horror, Recovery, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soos Is A Sweetheart, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Underage Drinking, Wendy Has Problems, everybody has issues, please don't read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumokagetsu/pseuds/Akumokagetsu
Summary: Dipper and Mabel wanted to escape their home life for a while, to just have a sense of normalcy.Everything in Gravity Falls is most certainly not normal in any conventional sense of the word and life just get weirder every day as they fight for their lives against the supernatural.But you know what they say.What doesn't kill you makes you stranger.





	1. The Arrival

0-0-0-0-0

 

It was a long, heavy bus ride all the way down the old dirt road, and Dipper didn't care about how long it took. The clouds above hung heavy and thick, pregnant with the possibility of rain. Dipper brushed the heavy locks of brown hair out of his eyes, glancing over to his sleeping twin in the bus seat across from him. Despite the slight stench of sweat in the bus and wafting from the seats, she seemed to be comfortably slumbering. He was a little envious of her. Mabel could sleep through an earthquake. No matter how badly he wanted to rest he couldn't keep his eyes closed though. He was just so tired.

 

Dipper stared with heavy bags under his eyes out at the steadily passing pines, tall and ominous as they leaned like they were ready to snap and fall atop them at any moment. He brushed the thought aside and sighed, rubbing his aching eyes. There was no way for him to sleep, he knew it. If he did, the nightmares would come back.

 

Dipper had been assaulted by nightmares for weeks now. It all began just before their parents decided it was 'for the best' that they both just go away for a while. He didn't want to think about all the nights that he and Mabel had stared up at the ceiling of their shared room, trying to ignore the shouting downstairs. It only escalated from there, cold responses, anger and snapping over the tiniest things. Their parents were not in a good place. Dipper internally shrugged. They had their own issues. Maybe they would get over them in the time that it took for the twins to spend some 'quality time' with their great uncle. Dipper doubted that it would be anything good though. He yawned again, his eyelids drooping ever so slightly.

 

He could see them, feel the dreams returning no matter how hard he tried to keep them at bay.

 

Dreams of a blackened, filthy and red stained sky, clouds turning chaotically with the whipping winds. High, cold laughter that sounded far too familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. His head felt heavy, his body felt numb, and he was so, so _cold_. Dipper drifted through the dream, watching trees uproot themselves and stumble along on thick, viny appendages. There was nowhere to run from this nightmare, he had it so many times that he knew what was coming. Blood raining from the sky in thick, fat droplets, stone statues that looked eerily lifelike as he passed them by without a care. Unnoticed faces that he didn't bother to look at because he _knew_ that the terrified, petrified, mouth agape people would remain in his mind forever if he looked at them. He just wandered along trying not to look at anything, get the dream over with as quickly as possible.

 

He saw his sister in ripped revealing clothes, dangling from chains.

Chains pulled like a puppeteer from his fingers.

 

Anger swelled in his chest as he stared at the mockery of his own face, that high pitched, maddening laughter echoing through an empty town.

 

Dipper blinked awake as Mabel shook him, the remnants of his sheer _rage_ still boiling in him. His fists were clenched and he was sweating heavily, panting for breath as if he had just run a marathon. Dipper shook his head and glanced over at his grinning, eager twin.

 

“We're almost there, Dip!” Mabel chirruped happily, clearly having rested better than he did and once again, unsurprisingly, utterly oblivious to his constant nightmares. The bus was indeed slowing down through old dirt roads, and he blinked his weary eyes again and looked around the empty bus, reminded of that terribly empty town that filled his dreams. He was still angry, still _furious_ at seeing his twin in such a... compromising position in his dream.

But more than that, he was angry at himself, because he _couldn't stop thinking about it._

 

He shook his head heavily and rubbed his hair down, though it refused to be tamed as always.

“Yeah,” Dipper shrugged simply, stifling another yawn. “Can't wait.”

“It's gonna be so cool...!” Mabel was bouncing in her seat, knocking over her bag full of home made sweaters. “Just you wait, bro; we're gonna have the _best_ vacation _ever!_ ”

Dipper desperately wished that he could share his sister's enthusiasm. But he knew for a fact that their parents only wanted to get rid of them for a while. He could still see his mother's disgusted sneer that she hadn't managed to hide in time. His father's disappointed, brow-furrowed scowl as he grunted and shook his head just from _looking_ at them. He was half hopefully looking forward to their 'break' away from home.

 

_I can't even stand to look at you anymore._

_By your age I was already successful. Why can't you step up?_

_Don't bother yourself with things that aren't your business._

_Shut up for ONCE or I swear to god I'll bust your lip._

 

He closed his eyes wearily and rubbed the side of his head, as if he could push the memories away.

Dipper was not exactly happy about the events. But if Mabel could be happy, then he would suffer through it, and he would do it with a smile, no matter how forced and plastic.

“Yeah. I'm sure it's going to be fun,” Dipper tried to say with enthusiasm and failed, immediately kicking himself for not sounding convincing enough. He shook himself again and plastered on a false grin, giving her a thumbs up to top it off. “We're going to have a great... _vacation_. It'll be... uh. Fun.”  
“Now you're getting into the spirit!” Mabel laughed and jumped into the seat beside him, making him suddenly feel sweaty again. Her brightly colored yellow sweater with a butterfly on the front was identical to the one he had seen before. He could still see that dream, see her dangling helplessly as she reached out to him, those ripped clothes, his doppelganger's self satisfied _smirk_...

 

He brushed the thought from his mind and tried to appear relaxed as Mabel's arm wound around his shoulder, and he pushed another grin, but this one didn't feel quite as forced. He just... liked having her close. That was all.

 

The bus slowly rolled to a stop at a parking lot just before an old, worn down building. Dipper stared up at the rotting sign reading ' _Mystery Shack_ ' before frowning and shaking his head. His parents had told him about his great uncle's business, and he was not looking forward to some cheesy tourist shop. He shrugged, a spark of hope still in his chest leftover from his sister's kind touch. Maybe his Grunkle just had a lot of money and had a separate house somewhere. Hell, he might even get an allowance if the old man was rich enough, and Dipper was rifling through a list of ideas to wrangle money out of their great uncle's hands before they even finished approaching the building.

 

Dipper and Mabel stared up at the Mystery Shack for a few moments as the bus turned and rolled away without so much as a word from the driver. Dipper shifted his backpack a bit, feeling heavy books hitting his spine uncomfortably. Mabel and Dipper glanced over at each other with slight trepidation before staring back to the rotting shack.

They hadn't made it a single step before a cloud of smoke _burst_ in front of them. Mabel yelped and Dipper instinctively clutched at his chest, throwing an arm in front of his sister protectively. When there was no sign of danger they looked at each other again, watching as a wrinkled, fez wearing old man in a black suit and glasses strode confidently out of the smoke cloud, eight ball cane in one hand and the other in his pocket. He grinned down at them expectantly, drawing out his hand and motioning toward the building.

 

“Welcome,” he said in a clearly rehearsed tone. “To the Mystery Shack!”

 

The 'S' on the sign fell off of the building immediately afterwards, crashing to the ground.

Dipper cringed instinctively, and the false smile swiftly washed off of the old man's face.

“Alright, _fuck_ it,” Stan shrugged, leaning on his eight ball cane. “I'll have Soos fix it later.”

“Do you live here?” Mabel bounced forward. Stan held out a hand but she just wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him, resulting in a very strange look from the old man. Dipper had to fight a bizarre, sudden _flare_ of something he couldn't identify. It definitely wasn't jealousy. That would just be stupid.

 

“My name is Mabel!” she pulled away and gave him a wide, toothy brace filled smile that seemed to light up the evening. “It's so nice to finally meet you, Grunkle Stan!”

“Yeah, sure,” he responded unconvincingly, giving her an awkward pat on the head. His voice had changed from earlier, less bluster and fake cheer. It just sounded like rocks on sandpaper, rough and coarse as he looked. “So, if you're Mabel, that means you'd be...”  
His head swiveled almost _mechanically_ and Dipper found himself shivering slightly before standing his ground and straightening up a little.

“Dipper,” he adjusted his jacket. “Dipper Pines.”

“Maple and Dipstick, got it,” Stan shrugged. Dipper studied his face to the best of his ability, memorizing every detail of the seemingly uncaring wrinkled man. He hid his irritation completely, maintaining an equally blank look. He'd had practice hiding his facial expressions, plenty of it. He refused to let anyone break him down any more. They couldn't do that if they couldn't read you. But this old man seemed to be on to it almost immediately, and it was _immensely_ frustrating.

 

“C'mon inside,” Stan waved them toward the crumbling shack, apparently unbothered that it looked as if it might implode at any time. “I'll show ya around the place. But after that you two shits – uh, _children_ – are gonna work for your livin',” he rubbed his knuckles and glared down at the pair of them threateningly. Dipper froze, seeing his father's face looming over him for just a bare moment, and could have sworn that his chilled heart skipped a beat.

“Got it,” Dipper answered automatically, ready to duck at a moment's notice. Gone was the showman from before, and in his place stood a menacingly shadowed man staring over them. But worst of all, the thing that disturbed Dipper more than anything, was the slow, spreading _grin_ that crawled like a spider over the old man's face.

“Let's go, Dip!” Mabel said excitedly, drawing him by the hand and away from their eerie Grunkle and deeper into the darkened Mystery Shack. “Oh my gosh, look at all this cool stuff!”

 

Dipper nodded and 'ah-huh'd numerous times as he was pulled by his twin until he was a safe distance away from the old man. He wasn't following them at all. He just... _stood_ there in the doorway. Like he was trying to show them that their only way out was blocked. He brushed the thought from his head, the word 'paranoid' bouncing around his mind a few times. He waited until they were a long distance away from their great uncle until he dared to speak, feeling sweaty from how long Mabel had been holding his hand. He pulled away and cleared his throat awkwardly, getting her attention.

“What's up, Dip?” she blinked, looking at him slightly worriedly.

 

He immediately kicked himself again for allowing himself to show emotion. He must have let something slip. He cleared his mind and remained as blank as he could, staring back at his sister.

“I think... I think something's wrong,” he glanced around at the tacky attractions that were clearly just stuffed animals glued together. He scowled a little and looked away. Like anyone could possibly be stupid enough to fall for something so blatantly false. “I think... I just, I dunno. Something about this place doesn't seem a little... _off_ , to you?”

“I dunno what you mean,” Mabel shifted and tucked her hands into her sweater. She was clearly trying to hide something, and he hated that she felt that she had to hide anything from him. Weren't twins supposed to be close? He felt slimy for constantly hiding things from her, the sense of cowardice and hypocrisy almost choking him. He had to clear his throat before speaking, actually not bothering to clear his face of emotion when speaking to her like he did with everyone else.

 

“Listen, Mabel...” Dipper shook his thoughts off long enough to focus on his sister. “Something about that old creep just... seems _off_. Y'know? Something isn't right here.”

“Oh, god, not _this_ again...!” Mabel pulled away from him and he felt like he had been punched in the stomach. “Dip, _seriously_ , you thought our last three _babysitters_ were serial killers!”  
“Cindy had a _rep sheet_ , Mabel!” he scowled dejectedly, hands clenching in his pockets. “And don't get me _started_ on Marsha!”

“He's _not_ a crazy axe-murderer, Dipper,” Mabel crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “He's our _Grunkle_. Just _relax_ for once. Everything is going to be fine.”  
“How do you _know_ that?” he pressed against his better judgment. “You can't just keep putting blind trust in strangers, that's how you get _screwed over_.”

“Maybe if you actually _tried_ to trust people,” her nostrils flared in aggravation, “Then you would actually have more friends!”

 

There again was that punch to the gut feeling. Anger roared in his chest as he rounded on her, his fists clenched tightly. Why couldn't she just understand? What was everyone's _problem?_

“And maybe if you didn't throw blind trust in random people you wouldn't have so many ex _boyfriends!_ ”

Mabel _reeled_ as if she had just been slapped. Dipper bit his tongue hard, knowing full well that he had gone too far. Guilt overcame him in waves as he lowered his voice, reaching out to his tearful sister. She pulled away from him angrily, rubbing her eyes with her sweater sleeves.

… _Shit._

 

“I-I, I'm sorry,” he sputtered immediately, cheeks burning brightly. “I d-didn't mean that, Mabel. Ma-Mabel?”

She refused to answer him, taking a slow, steady breath and looking away.

 

“... Mabes,” he said softly reaching out tentatively for her. “I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just...”

He 'just', what? What was he supposed to say? He was supposed to be more intelligent than anyone else in his grade. They weren't supposed to be at each others throats the first ten minutes that they finally got away from that atmosphere. And yet, here he was, _fucking up_ his sister's life yet again. Dipper forced the ugly thoughts away, awkwardly holding out his arms, daring to hope. Mabel just stared at him for a moment before sniffling, and he cursed himself for daring to ask for forgiveness.

And yet, she slowly gave him a hug regardless.

 

He held her close and let out a weary sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“I'm... I really am sorry, Mabel,” Dipper reiterated yet again. “I shouldn't have said that.”  
“It's true though, isn't it,” she mumbled, crestfallen. “Everything just gets screwed up because of me.”

“That's not true at all!” he retorted, standing up a little straighter. “Mabel, you-”

_You light up the room with your smile._

_Your dumb jokes always make me want to laugh, no matter how hard I try to hold it in._

_I'm afraid of going anywhere without you anymore._

_You make the world just a little bit more bearable._

 

Dipper didn't say any of those things.

He only sighed and shook his head, earning a strange look from her as he pulled away.

“None of what happened is your fault, Mabel,” Dipper insisted quietly. “Let's just... let's just get through today. Just one day at a time. To... together?” he added somewhat hopefully, inwardly yelling at himself as his cheeks reddened for saying something so obviously corny.

“You got it, broseph,” she fist bumped his shoulder, her grin already returning. Dipper really couldn't believe just how quickly she could recover. He was just glad that she did. Sometimes after one of her... _crashes,_ she wouldn't smile at all for a long time. He hated times like that. He never wanted to see her lying in bed for weeks just staring at the ceiling again. But that wasn't his fault, it wasn't her fault. It was probably their parent's fault. He wouldn't be surprised if it got to Mabel. It got to him sometimes, too, no matter how hard he tried to block it out.

 

He shook himself out of his daze as he was dragged along once again by a chirruping Mabel, chatting happily about the roadside attractions plastered all over the place as if she hadn't just crashed a little bit ago. But that was just Mabel, and he had grown accustomed to her long ago. It still bothered him, but he wasn't going to admit it. Not then, not now, not ever. He was the brother, he had to be stronger. And if not stronger, then smart enough to handle everything that was thrown at them.

Dipper wandered behind his sister into a reception area with a front desk and cash register, along with a large jar of floating eyes that Mabel pointed out to him.

He could have _sworn_ that the eyes were following him.

 

He breathed in the cooler air, gratefully standing beneath the air conditioner beside a rack of cheesy postcards. He coughed from the scent of strong smoke and... something else, but his sister didn't seem bothered, so he pretended that he wasn't either. Mabel was poking around on the other side of the room looking at bobbles and trinkets, but Dipper's eyes were elsewhere entirely.

A tall, slender redhead with flowing amber hair rolling out in waves from beneath her lumberjack hat, sat with her legs kicked up on the front desk, one boot crossing over the other. She wore jeans and a plaid, unbuttoned green shirt with a revealing white tank top underneath. Her features were rounded and soft, but her smile an easy one, and Dipper almost didn't notice how red her eyes were. She quickly put out whatever it was that she was smoking when she realized that Dipper was staring awe struck at her.

 

“'Sup?” she tilted her head back, and Dipper floundered for the correct response.

“Hello,” he held up a hand lamely. “I-I mean, hi. I mean, y-yo. What's, uh... what's-what's up?”

It wasn't often that it happened, but when it did he couldn't stand it. Dipper felt his higher functions shutting down altogether as he struggled to maintain what he desperately hoped was a casual position leaning against the front desk.

“Hi, my name is Mabel and I like puppies and candy sticks and braiding hair!” Mabel introduced herself eagerly, bounding right up beside Dipper and _oh god why was he so sweaty_.

“That's cool, man,” the red haired girl grinned lazily at them, and for the second time that day Dipper could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat the moment she winked at him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. “Name's Corduroy. Wendy Corduroy.”  
“Pines,” Dipper tried to imitate her cool tone, leaning heavily on the counter and almost slipping. “Dipper P-P-Pines.”

_Stop stuttering you idiot how many times do I have to tell you, you took the corrective classes why is this still happening oh god just play it cool-_

 

“Nice to meetcha, P-P-Pines,” Wendy winked playfully at him. “So, are you like, her little brother? Or...”

Dipper's face flushed in embarrassment, and he cleared his throat and tried to stand a little taller, to no success.

“We're twinsies!” Mabel piped up cheerfully. Wendy made an 'o' with her mouth and nodded once.

“That's so cool, man,” she leaned back in her chair. “Wish I had a twinsie.”

Dipper _immediately_ fought very, very hard to not think about having two Wendys and yet again failed spectacularly. He was like a human waterfall at this point.

 

“What in the _hell_ did I tell you,” Grunkle Stan's gruff voice emanated from directly behind Dipper, making him jump nearly half a foot in the air. “Quit smoking that _shit_ on the _clock!_ ”

“Cool your jets, man...” Wendy tried to say calmly but immediately straightened up and rolled her plaid sleeves up, revealing her arms. Dipper's eyes shot downward to the slim, almost hidden lines riddling her left arm, but he didn't get a chance to look at it as she pulled away. “I'm workin', man. I'm workin', I swear Mister Pines.”

“You'd fuckin' _better_ be,” he grumbled as he pulled his cane out, slamming it down to the floor a couple of times as he shouted. “HEY, SOOS!”

 

There was a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass from somewhere upstairs, and Stan sighed heavily as he pinched his bulging nose. Dipper had to look away for a moment. He was reminded of someone trying to crush a fat beetle. A few moments later a large, buck toothed man in a faded shirt and shorts stumbled into the room from down the stairs, out of breath and panting heavily. His head was slim and almost didn't seem to belong on his large body, and Dipper silently wondered at why he wore a shirt with a question mark on the front. Though from what he could guess it was probably some kind of loosely defined uniform. 'Soos' wore a tool belt that clinked and clanked as he walked, giving the old man a salute as he came to a stop.

 

“Reporting for duty, Mister Pines!” he stood proudly before him.

“Yeah sure that's great,” Stan said utterly blankly before narrowing his gaze upon the buck toothed unshaven man. “You got the lighting fixed yet?”  
“Just about, Mister Pines,” Soos tapped his fingers together nervously, eyes darting back and forth almost like a frightened mouse. “Just, uh, just gotta get a few more wires, and there won't be any more fires, I totally swear dude.”

“Just get it _done,_ ” Stan rolled his eyes and looked away. Soos stared down at the floor dejectedly. Dipper felt a strange, temporary flicker of protection, like he should have stood up for the man, but he pushed it away. He wasn't going to go getting into fights again. He promised Mabel.

He would be... _good._

 

For now, anyway.

 

“Lemme show you little dumpster rats to your lodgings,” Stan motioned for them to follow as he stomped up the creaky stairs, drawing them away from the main entry. Or as Dipper would forever refer to it as, 'the Wendy room'. Dipper wanted to retort, but the old man probably wouldn't even hear him. He resorted to grumbling angrily to himself as Grunkle Stan showed them down the hall and to a room not far away. It was wide, wider than his old room, and a large triangular window overlooked the yards and parking lot. Awash with a warm, yellow glow, the room should have felt inviting; but instead, as Dipper stared at the dusty beds on either side of the wall and the mold on the ceiling, all he felt was discomfort and disgust. And that constant, burning little ember of _anger._

 

It didn't seem fair. But he had to push it down. Deal with it later like a big boy. Not in front of Mabel.

 

“Oh. My. Gosh,” Mabel bounded past them and squealed loudly, jumping up onto the bed. “Dipper! We get to share a room!”  
“Y-yeah, that's... that's g-great...” he said unconvincingly. He felt so sweaty and uneasy, he hated it. He glanced over to the old man, but he was already walking back down the hall. He tripped over his own feet as he started after him, torn between staying with his sister or getting a word in edgewise with Stan. He chose the latter, and despised his decision regardless.

 

“H-hey!” Dipper said as he ran up to him just as he was about to descend the stairs.

“Before you ask, _no_ the food isn't free,” Stan grumbled, crossing his arms and letting the cane dangle. Dipper felt the sudden urge to grab it and _strike_ him with it, and he inwardly recoiled. He was supposed to be doing _better._ He had to. For Mabel.

 

“I-I just wanted to ask you something, Mister... _Grunkle_ Stan,” Dipper didn't like the way the word rolled around on his tongue. But it would have to do.

“So spit it the fuck out,” Stan replied coldly, making him flinch. He knew that tone all to well. He didn't bother daring to hope that he could escape it, even for a little while.

“It's-it's about Mabel...” he started slowly. Grunkle Stan just stood there and stared at him before eventually rolling his hand through the air, _boredly_ , like he couldn't even be bothered.

_You know what? Fuck him._

 

“It's nothing,” he stated promptly.

“Then why the _hell_ are you pestering me over _nothing?!_ ” Stan bellowed, causing him to flinch. He dug in his jacket for something, rifling around and swearing before throwing his hand up in the air in what might have been revulsion. Dipper didn't want to know. He didn't want to think about it. “Just go empty out your shit and get your bags out of my goddamn lobby. I'm not in the mood to get sued by some dumb fat fuck that trips over _your_ garbage and snaps their neck, and I am _definitely_ not in the mood to bury any more bodies, _Dipshit_.”

Dipper recoiled instantly.

“That's-that's, um, uh, a-a-a f-funny joke,” he gave a false, hollow laugh that wasn't reciprocated. Dipper just sidled by him uncomfortably and grabbed his bags, flinching whenever he had to pass by him again, though the old man didn't make to move an inch. He felt _humiliated_ grabbing and scrambling for his bags in front of Wendy. She didn't smirk or laugh at him like he expected her to. She just... watched, with a blank, empty expression.

He did not like seeing that look on her at all.

 

Dipper's face was flushed as he carried his bags up the stairs, but he was stopped by the old man once again.

“And once you're done with that,” he shouted after him even though he was only feet away. “Get your asses outside and start putting up more signs. We need more revenue, and _somebody_ ,” Stan glowered at Wendy over his shoulder for a moment, who cringed. “Can't be fucking _bothered_ to stop _shoplifters_.”

“I swear I didn't see anything,” Wendy shifted uncomfortably, but Stan only grunted and looked away, leaning heavily on his cane. Dipper realized that he had been standing stock still and watching her every move, suddenly flushing again and pushing onward up the stairs. He let out a heavy sigh once he was out of sight of Grunkle Stan. He stood before the bedroom door where he could hear his sister rambling on about something or other. Probably to herself. She did that sometimes. He had never really grown accustomed to that, but he could shrug it off easily by now.

 

“... What am I supposed to do...” Dipper rubbed the sides of his head tiredly, shifting the bag to his opposite shoulder.

“Probably just try to get along, dude.”

Dipper _jolted_ hard and clutched his left arm tightly, teeth clenched as he swiveled around to face Soos.

“Can you p- _please_ not do that?” Dipper exhaled heavily, even his breath came out shaky.

“Just thought you could use some words of wisdom,” Soos nodded to him once, resting his hand on his tool belt.

“If I wanted that I'd read a self help book,” he snapped promptly. Soos seemed to be unaffected.

“Just sayin', dude. Sometimes life is harder when people are hurting. You just gotta know when to reach out and help 'em.”

 

Dipper stood utterly dumbstruck.

“I...” Dipper stared before biting his bottom lip and making up his mind. “I-I'm sorry,” he ran a hand through his thick hair with a frown. “I'm just...”  
“Don't even worry about it, dude,” Soos placed a trashcan lid sized hand on his comparatively tiny shoulder with a soft, kind smile that Dipper rarely saw on anyone other than his sister. “You just hang in there.”  
“Yeesh,” Dipper rolled his shoulder to brush him off, feeling slightly scummy for being so rude to him. “You just have a nice response to everything?”  
“Hey, life is full of questions. Idiots are full of answers,” he winked at him with a small grin. Something smashed and crinkled somewhere downstairs, which was quickly followed by a loud shout for the repairman.

 

“My duty calls,” he bowed out slowly and walked away. Dipper stared after him for a moment before sighing and shaking his head, turning instead to the oaken bedroom door. The floor creaked when he entered the room and Mabel bounded off her bed with a box in her arms, what appeared to be junk spilling over the sides.

 

“Oh my god, Dip Dip, there you are!” Mabel trotted over to him eagerly, bouncing up and down. “You aren't going to _believe_ it, I found so much cool stuff up here! Do you think Grunkle Stan will let us have any of it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Dipper lied instantly with a hint of vengeance prickling at him. “He said we can have any one thing we like from up here.”

“Awesome, done and _done,_ ” she whipped out an old grappling hook. Dipper only stared at the device. What was an old coot like Grunkle Stan doing with a _grappling hook?_ “I'm calling dibs – double dibs, _super_ dibs, like, _so_ many dibs, bro.”  
“I got it, I got it...” he laughed and brushed her away, delighting in the feeling of actually having a _real_ laugh for once. It felt... nice. He rifled in the box for his 'present' before eventually coming across a worn old brown and white hat with a faded, slightly blue pine tree on the front.

 

“... Yeah, this'll do,” he shrugged, flipping it through his fingers before placing it atop his head. It fit almost as if it were perfectly designed for his head.

The thought was not comforting in the slightest.

 

“Hey!” they both shot up upon hearing Grunkle Stan's shouts from downstairs. “I thought I told you two to get busy with the signs! Get to it or you'll be out there _all night_ , now _chop – fuckin' – chop!_ ”

Dipper sighed yet again and hung his head, but glanced upward when he saw the soft, easy smile that Mabel wore, her hand gently on his shoulder. He felt a quiet, calm surge of strength like she was sharing some of her boundless energy with him, and for just a few moments he felt utterly calm as he gave her a gentle smile back. It was one of those special twin moments where they could understand each other perfectly without having to even speak.

 

They had survived worse.

They could survive here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The entire time, Mabel and Dipper were watched, and the shadows clung to them as they left.

He had waited this long.

He could wait a little longer.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 


	2. Red

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Dipper was, for lack of a better term, utterly disgruntled.

 

However, to phrase it in words that he would have uttered himself, irritable at best. His legs were aching, a twitch was forming in his left temple, and his hands were bruised from the numerous times that he had accidentally smacked himself with the head of the hammer. Anger dripped like hot venom into his chest and his stomach twisted in knots as he struggled and strained to force it down long enough to focus. He was doing better. He _had_ to have been doing better, he had faked it for this long he could do it a bit longer. For Mabel. But god, how his hands were stinging. Dipper did not necessarily command the greatest of hand eye coordination in the first place, and his current distraction was not helping keep his hands safe either. Mabel, however, remained utterly oblivious to his suffering as always; that was fine by him though. For all she knew he was just very clumsy. He didn't think he could bear her knowing it was seeing her shorts and sweater stick tight to her body in the evening warmth that was filling his mind with... foulness. Or maybe that was already in his head and he was just peeling back the cover of something he'd rather not face. Maybe it was something that he didn't know, maybe it was something he did.

 

Either way, he didn't want to think about it.

So he didn't.

 

Dipper made a promise, though. Not _just_ a promise, but a promise to _her._ He had to stick to it. He promised Mabel and he would not, _could_ not bear to be the cause of her misery ever again. No matter how much it burned his veins, no matter how _furious_ it made him, no matter how much it killed him inside, he would force a smile and _behave_. He could handle that. He could do that. He could be well behaved. If that meant dealing with some grumpy old man for a few months then he could handle it. He mused over this as he carefully nailed up another sign to a birch tree, the markings on the wood seeming almost like watchful eyes. Maybe if the crotchety old fart had an... _accident_ of some sort – he shook his head. His brows furrowed as he stared back at the 'eye' unflinchingly, resisting the urge to rub his aching head. Dipper didn't care much for the feeling of being observed. He stuck his tongue out at the tree with a scowl, immediately feeling silly for doing so. It was immature and rebellious and he knew it but it felt just a bit _right_ to be free enough to fight back against someone, against _something_ , even if that something was just a dumb tree with a dumb sign in the dumb woods and Dipper was feeling _dumb_ _why was he scowling up at a tree._

 

“Gonna go crazy in these fricking boonies,” Dipper grumbled angrily to himself as he moved on and put up another sign, viciously pounding the nail in and nearly smashing his thumb yet again. He couldn't go letting his thoughts outside of his head, people were going to think that he was as crazy as his sist-

He forcefully shook his head _again,_ promptly feeling like scum. Mabel wasn't crazy, he would never be as cruel as his parents to insist that she was. Mabel just had a few... problems. It wasn't her fault. She was special, she was different and if he was the only one bright enough to see that then so be it. But she was a big girl, she could take care of herself. It didn't stop him from worriedly throwing glances over his shoulder as he neared the end of the signs that needed to be hanged. The beginning hadn't been so bad, listening and nodding where he thought he should as she gleefully described the weird pointy red leaves that seemed to keep disappearing from her sight. He suppressed a shiver that he silently insisted was just the cool northern breeze giving him goose flesh. It was certainly colder here than California, but he would no sooner go back there than he would go anywhere without his sister. Who was being suspiciously silent.

 

Mabel must have wandered off while he was getting lost in his thoughts, and he silently cursed himself yet again. He couldn't even think to himself without her slipping out of his sight, and just because the woods _seemed_ safe didn't mean she hadn't stumbled into a bear trap or something equally terrifying. Dipper chewed his bottom lip fearfully, the twisting in his stomach suddenly taking on a much more nervous, sinister ache. Weren't twins supposed to have some kind of weird connection that let them know if the other was in danger? What if he was too busy getting lost in his thoughts to focus on that? What if she was in trouble because he hadn't been paying attention?

 

That thought rang in his head louder and louder until it was all that remained.

Mabel could be hurt.

She was alone, out in the middle of nowhere, where the woods could be filled with wild animals and dangers and what kind of a brother could he call himself he had been _ignoring her._

 

“... Mabel?” Dipper called out quickly, quickly dropping the remaining boards in a pile. He scowled down at them angrily as if his glower could siphon away the constant roiling in him, but the splintered painted wood only lay there unhelpfully. This wasn't his fault, and it wasn't the sign's fault. This was _Stan's_ fault, if he hadn't sent them out into the middle of the forest nearing a cloudy evening then he could have kept a closer eye on his sister, it wasn't _his_ fault-

But it was, even if it wasn't, it was _always_ his fault and he couldn't find her no matter how fast he pumped his legs, the sweat beading across his forehead and dripping down his back urging him onward. He was out of breath, she told him over and over again that he needed to work out like she did but he never listened, and he was paying for it because she could be in trouble...! The evening sun glinting through the treetops forced him to squint to see the Mystery Shack coming back into view, with no sign of Mabel anywhere. His breathing caught in his chest and a tiny whine escaped his lips as he shifted from foot to foot. He needed to find her, needed to make sure that she was okay, why couldn't she just stick _close_ to him like he needed?

 

“Mabel?!” a shout tore out of his throat as he whirled on the spot, charging back through the woods. Maybe she had circled around at some point? She couldn't have gone far, just over the little rolling hill – perhaps he could find some footprints or clues to direct him toward her, the panic was singing in his veins and his chest was clenched so tightly that he couldn't even breathe. He must have been slowly losing it because he could haves sworn that he saw sharply tipped red flashes in his peripheral vision that were gone when he tried to look closer, panic riding up his back. Dipper tried to force himself to remember the supposedly helpful lessons, unable to keep still long enough to focus for even a moment. He didn't have _time_ to 'breathe like a normal person', his chest ached, he couldn't _think_ -

 

His vision was swimming and he didn't even know for how long it had been doing so, so great was his growing fear. His breaths came in short, reedy little gasps, his fists shaking and clenched so tightly that his nails were cutting into him, drawing blood. It was almost funny and he would have giggled were it any other situation. Red was such a nice color dripping down his palms, but right now he couldn't let himself get distracted by the color. Dipper came to a shaky rest at a wide needle pine, top scraping fingers against the sky as he reeled and fell against the trunk for support. He tried to yell for his sister once again, and to his frustration and fear and furiously buried _despair_ all that came out was a scratchy, weak whisper. He had nightmares like this before, dreams of terror where he kept running and never moving, screaming unheard and he couldn't even wake up from this and make sure she was okay, he was hyperventilating so badly that his hands must have started to lose feeling because the tree that he was leaning against felt almost like it was made of metal.

 

Dipper strained against his baser instincts that urged him to keep running. His slightly bloody fingers scraped slowly over the tree, not a single piece of bark on the thing feeling like actual wood. His mind felt like it had slowed to a crawl, and he gave it an experimental knock with his knuckles with trembling, quivering hands.

It echoed.

 

For all of his worry for his sister, his anger at himself and the sensation of slipping, Dipper honestly could not for the life of him continue to believe that he had heard that correctly. He was going crazy from worry, that was it. Nobody sane would put a metal tree in the middle of nowhere. Right? Maybe his head was just rattled from overexerting himself or something. So, he knocked again. And once again, the tree echoed. Like it was a hollow metal tube or something.

“... Uh,” he said eloquently.

 

Hand running through his hair, he pulled away for a moment. His palms were still stinging badly from where his uncut nails had torn through the skin and he frowned, brows furrowing. He wiped his hands on his shorts and glanced around, uncertain. This had to be a prank or something. But no matter how long he waited, nobody jumped out with a camera to say 'you just got ker-pranked' or something equally stupid and inane. Dipper managed to steady his breathing just a bit, his mind narrowing onto the odd 'tree' as he gently ran his fingertips up and down the trunk where he could, like he could peel it open if he tried hard enough. He hadn't even noticed that his overly rapid breathing had slowed until the sweat dripped down his nose and he kicked himself for temporarily forgetting what he had been so worried about.

_Paranoid. They were right. You're just a paranoid maniac._

But maybe he was just worrying too much, and Mabel was _inside_ the Shack and he just hadn't seen her? That was a possibility. He felt selfish and guilty for thinking that though, as if assuming his sister was safe gave him the go ahead to start solving more mysteries; wasn't Mabel more important than some weird tree? He swallowed dryly, finger dancing over the odd facsimile of nature.

_There's nothing here._

_You're paranoid._

_He's had problems for years, but it's not a problem until it's an inconvenience?_

_Paranoid._

_Crazy._

_Reject._

_Maniac._

 

It took several long, deep breaths for him to bring his attention back to the task at hand, and his mind fought him for every inch. Dipper glanced over his shoulder nervously as if expecting her to suddenly be there judging him for his decision, but he was alone and he acted regardless. He could _feel_ the indents in a square on the tree, if he could just find a hatch or a lever or a release- the fact that he couldn't find one was only further irritating him. He pushed on the indents, rubbed his fingers exploringly along the protrusions and heaved, grunting and sweating and pushing until the rusted thing finally gave way. It stuck partially, earning another frown from him, and he noted a few wires on the underside that were coated in dusty cobwebs. That, along with a strange, somewhat sickly looking residue, which he rubbed off on the side of his leg in mild disgust. Hopefully it wouldn't get into the marks on his palms. He returned to the tree with determination, focus returning.

It sprang fully open with a few experimental prods, much to his delight and confusion. Only a small lever sat inside, further causing his curiosity to grow.

 

“And what are you...?” Dipper murmured quietly to the lever, giving it a few experimental tweaks. It clicked and clacked but nothing appeared to happen. It was so bizarre that anyone would put a _lever_ inside of what appeared to be a carefully disguised tree; what was the point? What was the purpose in such a thing, for what reason might someone try to hide something like this in the middle of bumfuck Oregon? His brows furrowed even more deeply as he concentrated, listening closely as he gave the lever a couple more flicks. If he could just get the thing up, he might be able to follow the wires to... whatever this thing was for. Finally, something that _wasn't_ inane, boring, menial labor. It appeared to be bolted at the bottom however, and he doubted that he could lift it or pry it off with his limited physical capabilities, and started to look around for a stick or something to unearth the wires he was sure were hidden underneath. He would have continued to be distracted by the new mystery were it not for the sudden rustling of leaves underfoot behind him. Every instinct in his head screamed as his vision flashed red in fear and retaliation, survival the only thing in mind.

 

Jolting hard, Dipper swung out with his left fist and ducked his head backward-

And struck Mabel hard in the face.

 

She let out a pained yelp as she fell on her backside as she hid behind her arms, face full of pain and betrayal. Dipper _choked_ on his own breath, immediately dropping to his knees. He started to crawl forward only for her to flinch and he cringed hard, already seeing the growing splotch on her cheek.

 

“ _Shit!_ ” Dipper could feel his chest squeezing hard again, he felt so _foul_ that he wanted to go find the nearest ravine and hurl himself into it. “Oh god, oh _god_ M-Mabes, I'm sorry, I'm so, _so_ sorry-” his face curled downward angrily. He hated it, he hated what he had done, he hated _himself_ \- “-but god _dammit_ Mabel how many times do I have to _tell_ you not to _sneak up on me?”_

Dipper immediately wished that he could take back his stupid words and jam them back down his throat, the hurt look that she gave him was enough to make his heart feel like it was tearing apart from the inside out.

 

“I-I'm sorry,” he blurted, forcing his wobbling knees upwards so that he could stand. “I r-r-really didn't mean to do that, M-Mabel, I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry_ , are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” she perked up suspiciously quickly, rubbing the sore spot on her cheek and grinning with a mouthful of braces at him in that dazzlingly wide smile of hers. “What, you think I'm gonna be effected by some wimpy punch like that? Pffft-sha, work on your left hook, broseph,” she waved him off, her grin just as wide as always. Dipper released an internal sigh of relief, and it must have shown on his face because Mabel tilted her head to the side slightly to stare at him. He quickly shook off any expression he might have been showing and tried not to rub the lines under his eyes, matching her smile.

 

“Check out what I found, Mabes!” he said with a false enthusiasm that he hoped would pacify her. The intense _guilt_ of striking his own sister was almost a physical sensation, he could feel it crawling up through his chest and strangling him – but it was like Mabel said, he couldn't punch very hard, she was fine, it was _okay_ so long as he didn't keep thinking about it. He couldn't stand the falsehood in his own voice. He couldn't bring himself to look at the slowly growing mark on her cheek, _knowing_ that it was his fault; but the fact that she was just brushing it off with a smile seemed to make his heart ache even more.

_Don't think about it._

 

“It's a lever,” he couldn't repress the stutter this time, and swallowed hard again. “A-a lever, in a tree. Weird, r-right?”

“ _Clearly_ it's just for _green energy,_ ” she beamed at him. Dipper stared for a brief moment before he felt a slowly growing grin of his own growing. He let out a, for once, natural feeling chuckle before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. But Mabel seemed thoroughly preoccupied with the lever hidden in the tree, which was fine by him. He could not bear to see that forgiving look again without breaking down. He didn't cry. Dipper was supposed to be a man, men didn't cry for anything. Just because she got to see things nobody else did didn't mean that she could ever see _that._

He started to reach out for her before a loud, hydraulic _whoosh_ went off half a foot away, and he let out a too-high pitched yelp as he jolted away from the source of the noise. He stared at the newly formed hole in the ground where a hatch had opened up, dark and dank and musty.

 

Dipper glanced over to Mabel in surprise, his eyebrows shooting into his damp hair.

“How did you...?” he jabbed a thumb at the opening.

“Loose wire,” Mabel grinned proudly, motioning to the section of rusted bolts that his fingers had been too weak to pry up.

“Nice going, Mabes!” Dipper bounced on the balls of his feet eagerly, watching happily as her smile widened. It was like the incident from earlier had been entirely forgotten. Dipper could live with that, even if that hole was filled with snakes and scorpions he would jam his whole arm right into it, if it meant that his sister could ever forgive him. But it wasn't like he could just _ask_ for forgiveness or something-

 

Dipper shook the thoughts from his head, unwilling to let go of the rare good feeling as he carefully pried a tiny pocket flashlight from within his vest. He shined it down into the small foot wide pit, his brows furrowing deeply as he spotted what appeared to be a crusty, dusty old book. A spider crawled away from it and into the corner with a bundle of coned webs as he slipped his fingers underneath the binding and lifted slowly, like it would fall apart if he so much as squeezed too hard.

Mabel at least had the decency to wait until he had lifted it to blow as hard as she could, blasting dust all over the place.

 

“Mabel!” Dipper scowled through his coughs, uselessly fanning away ancient motes of dirt and earth. She responded with a cackle, waving her hands through the dust cloud even as it settled. “Come on, Mabes. It's going to take forever to get that out of my ears.”  
“Aw, _live_ a little, Dippin' Dots!” Mabel's arms jittered around wildly like she couldn't find a place to put them. “What is it, what'cha got there, show me show me show me!”  
“Use your eyes, Mabel,” he frowned, holding up the dusty red book. He ran a finger over the thing and bit back a hiss when dust inevitably began to settle into his cuts, but it was his fault and he _knew_ it was his fault and it wouldn't do any good to complain about it, or worse, take it out on Mabel.

 

“It's... some kind of, I don't know. An old notebook, or a peculiar journal or something?” Dipper murmured. Mabel was peering at him with something that looked like expectancy or appraisal, he couldn't tell. But she was awaiting an answer. “It's like-like somebody was desperate to hide this thing, like it's evidence or-”

_Or a grimoire._

Dipper suddenly felt much less inclined to share the book with his sister. The images in the book were... _upsetting_ to say the very least. Scribbled notes that only some were in English, the rest transcribed in unfamiliar dialects and codes, and his mind was buzzing with the possibilities. Carefully drawn diagrams all over the place, bizarre geometry and the beings held within were almost too much to contain within him. Rotting zombies and gargantuan beasts with fungus growing out of pustules growing along its back, tiny creatures with terrible teeth and wild ramblings carrying from page to page. Depictions of creatures too fantastical to be anything other than a madman's fever dream.

_And yet..._

 

“So what's it say?” Mabel was clinging to his shoulder with both hands as he pried open the book.

“No idea,” he lied immediately, closing the book swiftly. He felt hot, far too warm all of a sudden, like everything was crashing down on him at once and the exhaustion was settling in. “But I'll figure it out,” he added confidently. “Some of this writing seemed to be in Vignette and stegonography, polyalphabetics-”  
“Yeah okay sure but can you say it in _non_ nerd speak?” Mabel rolled her hand through the air.

“Can you try hard enough to pick up to my _level?_ ” he shot back coldly. Mabel cringed away and he flinched, running a hand down his face. “I... what-what I mean is... s-sorry,” he mumbled, head down. “I was just really worried about you, Mabes. You didn't come when I called you or anything, I-I was running all over looking for you, and now _this_... whatever _this_ is,” he held up the journal, the glinting image of a hand on the front (was that actual gold?) almost blinding him in the evening light. “I'm... I'm sorry. I got really freaked out and I shouldn't take that out on you.”

“It's okay broseph!” Mabel's arms were around him before he knew it and the journal almost fell out of his hands as his arms went limp at his side. “I forgive you. You get the rest of those signs hung up?”  
“Yeah,” he lied again without looking at her. “We should probably head back to Stan's – to _Grunkle_ Stan's,” he corrected himself as he dared to meet her cheerful gaze. “We've still got to unpack everything that we brought by the way-”

“Aw, but that's _boring,_ ” Mabel groaned miserably as she strolled beside him, pulling at the sleeves to her butterfly sweater.

“It's not a problem for me,” Dipper couldn't keep the smugness out of his voice. “I brought what I needed. You, on the other hand-”  
  


Mabel just stared at him.

“Brought what I _needed,_ ” she said pointedly.

“Two suitcases full of knitting supplies? Really?”

“Of _course,_ Dorkus Maximus!” she threw up her arms and he flinched instinctively, but she didn't seem to notice. “How else am I supposed to get better?”

Dipper opened his mouth before closing it and shaking his head, the small grin on his lips feeling slightly more natural than before.

“If you say so, Mabel.”  
“I _do_ say so,” she whipped a lock of her hair up and held it like a moustache over her lip, waggling her eyebrows at him as she spoke in a false European accent. “Why I do say so, sir Dippingsauce, why harrumph harrumph, I do say so indeed-”  
“Who's the dork now?” he laughed and shoved her gently on the shoulder, earning a surprisingly rough shove back that nearly knocked him off his feet, but his ringing laughter belied his carefree attitude. Mabel was here, she was fine, so he was fine. “Come on, Mabes. Oh, and...”

 

Dipper paused just as they reached the edge of the woods before the clearing for the lot of the Mystery Shack.

“Maybe... maybe we shouldn't say anything to Grunkle Stan about this,” Dipper shifted nervously as he stuck the crimson journal as deeply as he could into his inner vest pocket. Her confused look urged him onward. “Just-just for now. I don't know if it would be a good idea to tell anybody about it just yet. It'll be a... a-a _twin_ secret.”

Mabel responded by forming an _o_ with her mouth before nodding once.

 

“I gotcha, broseph,” she held out a fist for him, which he gratefully met with a fist bump. Dipper let out a silent breath of relief, unwilling to relent his new prize to the crotchety old man.

“Thanks, Mabes.”  
“No problem, Dip Flip!” Mabel's smile widened, and Dipper desperately hoped that it was just his imagination that a bruise started to be forming on her cheek, and he vainly wished to go back to that hole in the ground and bury himself in it to keep from seeing that look ever again. “Now if you don't mind, bro bro, I am _starving,_ what do you think Grunkle Stan is making for dinner?”

Dipper muttered more to himself than he did to her as she bolted eagerly back toward the Shack, and he shook his head as he slowly followed. No, he wouldn't be relinquishing this new mystery to anyone, let alone the old man. He would solve this puzzle.

 

He did not, however, notice the many, many pointed red caps slowly rising through the bushes behind him.

 

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**Author's Note:**

> Just a little side project I thought I'd work on to destress. Maybe It'll come out as something halfway decent once I'm finished with it, but I doubt it. Seriously, I write nothing but garbage. There's so many better things you could be reading.
> 
> Either way, I'll try to update if anyone cares. I'm just glad to be writing again.


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